Homeward Bound
by statira
Summary: "It was not meant to be this hard…" Hermione goes in search of her parents. She had not anticipated how hard it would be, to put everything back as it was. MINOR DH SPOILER -DRABBLE-


_Title_: Homeward Bound

_Characters_: Hermione Granger, The Grangers/The Wilkins.

_Rating_: PG

_Summary_: "_She puts it with the others resisting the urge to count and to see just how many two weeks it has been. It was not meant to be this hard…"_

Hermione goes in search of her parents in Australia. She had not anticipated how hard it would be, to put everything back as it was. Drabble. DH spoilers

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"_No matter which road you take they all lead home. Know that now and it will make all the difference... then._"

**-**Raphie Frank

"_... Why am I in Hell? I just want to go home and lie on the bed the way I used to. Please take me home."_

-Grant Morrison

* * *

She sits in her rented car watching them coming and going from work. She's borrowed Harry's cloak, but she knows he'll understand. She has begun to notice a pattern; her father is always late on a Friday because he goes for a morning swim. Her mother brings coffee, for all the staff, every morning.

Tomorrow will be her third appointment to see them, she pretends her name is Kathleen.

She notices how happy the Wilkins' look, oblivious to everything. Carefree in a way she has not seen in many years. She forgets just how many of his teeth you can see when her father smiles. She catches the familiar scent of talc and oranges, when her mother reaches over her in the dentist's chair.

She purposely bumps into them at the organic market. She makes the joke that they must be stalking her, before they become too guarded. She follows them to the cinema, she doesn't remember what the film is; she spends the two hours watching them from three rows back. So light-hearted, laughing and behaving like teenagers; her father throws popcorn in her mother's greying hair.

She asks Monica at her fourth appointment if she has any children, and apologises because it is forward, but would she like to have had children? Her mother smiles in a settled, accepted way, and tells her that once maybe, a long time ago. She continues that she is happy and lives a fulfilled life, and that children just weren't for everyone.

The response hurts Hermione; she detests the sound of acceptance in her mother's voice. She fights back the tears stinging her eyes. She becomes painfully aware she can never explain why she feels the urge to cry to her dentist. She knows her parents loved her and that she loves them, isn't that why she is in this mess?

Ron sends word; the letter is dated two weeks ago. He begs her to make contact, there are still reports in The Daily Prophet of Death Eater hives being uncovered, and reminds her many have fled the country. She is not safe and for Merlin's sake be careful, she was too high profile. To please tell him she was ok.

She puts it with the others resisting the urge to count and to see just how many two weeks it has been. It was not meant to be this hard.

She finds solitude at her favourite spot on the beach and internally debates the merits of lifting the spell on Mr and Mrs Wendell Wilkins. From the corner of her eye she spots them walking hand in hand along the beach, her father holding her mother's sandals as they walk through the break in the wave. The sun is getting low and soon it will be dark, and with the sudden groan of her stomach, betraying her hunger, she realises how long she has sat here. The couple continue on their walk unaware of her presence. As they draw closer she has no choice but to wave. Hermione can see the suspicion in her father's blue eyes, which are veering on contempt. He is beginning to realise not is all as it seems with Kathleen.

Hermione knows it is now or never.

The earlier words of her mother echo in her ears, and she concludes that they will always be happy here, without the premature aging of worrying about Hermione Granger. She will return to England, the Weasley's are her family now. As she turns to leave them be, to their life's dream, a memory returns to her. One of her mother baking the Christmas cake and handing a, very young, Hermione the wooden spoon, how it had seemed so giant to her, smothered in raw batter and encrusted with raisins and cherries. Her father lifting her with ease onto the back of a donkey at Brighton Beach. She can almost feel the prickly hairs grazing the inside of her legs. Her parents standing in a pool in Spain, her father's thick, hairy arms outstretched, telling her not to worry he will catch her. Them both sitting in the front row, looking up at her with adoring, proud eyes as she reads her poem, the one she has written herself, at her primary school talent show.

It occurs to her that it does not matter what Dr. Wilkins says, that the Grangers love her. She reminds herself that their memories were altered. She had done it herself.

She twirls back to them, effortlessly removing the wand from her pocket as she does so. The look of terror in her mother's eyes is not lost on her; either is the way her father pushes his wife protectively behind him. How his face has distorted with rage and his mouth has opened widely to speak. There is recognition in their horrified faces of the wand, and for the first time Hermione realises her memory altering spell may not have been one hundred percent affective.

She flicks her wrist in a complicated manoeuvre and speaks the spell clearly.

And waits.

And waits some more, becoming slightly worried.

She can feel her hands becoming clammy. Has she said the spell correctly? Is it too late?

"Hermione!" Dr. Granger calls brightly, embracing her daughter warmly and as Hermione inhales deeply the heavy must of her mother's perfume, her eyes close subconsciously and she realises she is finally home.

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End file.
